


Deception

by Steph_Puppet



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph_Puppet/pseuds/Steph_Puppet
Summary: The Vinciguerras delay their capture of Udo Teller, and in the interim Gaby finds herself married to a certain KGB agent. First two chapters were originally from my drabble series but this is going to be long enough to deserve its own story.





	1. Chapter 1

Gaby wasn’t sure why she had decided to take up with the attractive Russian who had turned up on her garage’s doors with a sheepish look on his face and a busted up car. The explanation that he had rear-ended a tank really should not have been so endearing, and years later Gaby couldn’t quite remember what had drawn her to him in the first place. By all accounts, she should have avoided him like the plague and she lets herself consider that maybe it was loneliness. Those years in East Berlin after her foster father’s death are not remembered fondly, and the greatest feeling she remembers was the crushing sense of isolation- not able to form any meaningful connections with anyone else, and too distrustful to try. Perhaps that was why she had spent a solid week flirting and charming her way into the Russian’s bed, his half-hearted protests that he would only be staying in the city for a couple of months only providing her with an even better reason to use him and his touch to chase away her sadness.

She knew from the start that their relationship had an end date, when his employers would inevitably call him back to Moscow, and she reminded herself every time he held her that this was temporary and she should not grow attached. She lied to herself often during those months, pretending that her feelings for him were limited to fondness and affection and she could almost see the same false thoughts running through his head. Regardless of the ways they tried to deceive themselves, that date kept approaching and she could feel a slight desperation in their nights together, a surprisingly strong need to commit these moments to memory before they were over forever.

Lying in bed beside him one day, watching his face peaceful with sleep she had felt an overwhelming desire to ask him to quit his job and stay, but the words caught in her throat and she never uttered them out-loud, choosing instead to bury her face into a pillow to muffle her cries. The next day she banished away those thoughts and busied herself around the kitchen making him a coffee and joking about how long it would be until he replaced her once he left, ignoring the trace of bitterness that laced her voice as she said it with false joviality. He hadn’t laughed and had looked at her seriously as he replied that he doubted it would be that easy. For a moment she had let her mask slip and they had both looked at each other for a long moment, both realising at the same time that they had made a mistake with this relationship. It would not be easy to move on from this, they could both lie to themselves as much as they wanted but their inevitable parting would still be painful.

Perhaps their parting would have been as awful as they thought, but due to a stroke of chance they were never able to find out. The week before Illya was due to leave, Gaby turned up at his flat pale and trembling. He had not been surprised to see her, their meetings had increased in frequency until they were daily what with their awareness of the approaching end, but her state had not been expected and he ushered her into the flat and sat her down with a warm cup of tea. Kneeling before her seated position and looking at her with such concern had not made things any easier for her, the confession that had been on her lips delayed by her sudden inability to speak.

“What is it Gaby? What happened?” Illya asked, taking one of her hands between his.

“You can’t leave.” She managed to say, hating how choked up and thick her voice was with restrained emotion. She watched as his expression shifted from concern to torn between pity and sadness. She watched his own conflict as his gaze flicked away and he sighed heavily, not understanding yet why her declaration was so important.

“Gaby…” She knew what he had been about to say, no doubt a lengthy diatribe about how much he cared for her and how he wished he could stay but couldn’t, and with a burst of courage she managed to interrupt him to tell him the thought that had been on her mind for the last few hours.

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out, he reeled back slightly and a look of abject shock crossed his face, firmly removing any other trace of emotion that had been there previously. Uncertain of how he would feel about the news once the surprise wore off, she let her gaze drop back to her knees and quietly told him the rest. “I’ve been feeling nauseous for a while, I went to the doctor about it and they did it a blood test.”

Silence fell as she let him process the news, she kept her eyes fixed into place even as she heard him stand up and move to sit beside her on the couch. There was a small pause and then she felt him gather her onto his lap. She wound her arms around him and buried her face into his neck as he rested his chin on the top of her head. The sudden proximity stung at her eyes and she bit harshly on her lip to stop herself from such a display of emotion.

“I can’t stay.” Illya said quietly, one of his hands rubbing down her arm comfortingly. “They won’t let me stay, no matter the reason.” Feeling a stab of anger, she made to get up and push him away but his arms tightened around her and locked her into place. Shifting slightly so she could look at him, she shot him a venomous glare. “I can’t stay.” He repeated, meeting her gaze steadily. “But you could come with me.”

The thought had not occurred to her. She had only ever considered the idea of him staying with her in East Germany and perhaps buying a house together. Living in Russia had never crossed her mind and now she let herself consider it. On the surface it wasn’t a particularly appealing concept, her fanciful thoughts of the future usually involved her moving over the wall not further behind it. But would it really be any worse than the situation she was in currently? It wasn’t just herself she had to think about now, and she wasn’t foolish enough to think that life as an unmarried mother in East Germany would hold any advantage over being a married woman in Russia. He hadn’t said anything about getting married but she knew that’s what would happen if she went with him, she knew him well enough to know that if he accepted this responsibility he would not want to make any half-measures.

Thinking it over some more, Gaby realised she had very little to hold her to Germany apart from some fond childhood memories she clung to and a general sense of nostalgia. She had no family there anymore, her blood relatives were either dead or missing and her foster family were equally diminished. She did have the business, but that could be sold and she could start again wherever she wanted. Every city needed car mechanics, she would have no difficulty finding work and she was sure Illya would not stand in her way if that was what she wanted to do. He had always appreciated her independence and was not stupid enough to think she would give it up just because of the sudden existence of a marriage and birth certificate.

“I guess I should probably learn Russian.” She murmured, feeling a surprising sense of calm at the acceptance of her fate. She felt him press a light kiss to her hair, before he parted from her and spoke again.

“There’s something you should know first.” He admitted, and there was something in the intonation of his voice that made Gaby pull away and look at him closely. He struggled to meet her eyes, and she felt a rock sink into her stomach as she realised that whatever it was it was likely to be very serious. A multitude of possibilities ran through her mind, the most worrisome being that he was actually already married. If he was, she wasn’t sure what she would do but she found that the most likely outcome involved violence and one of her hands closed into a fist in subconscious preparation. “It’s about my job.” He added, and she felt herself relax a little. “I’m not really an engineer.” The odd confession caused a frown to crease her features.

“What?” She asked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. It was such a strange thing to lie about. Wincing slightly he repeated himself without further elaboration, only increasing her confusion. “What’s your job then?”

“You’re going to be very angry with me.” He warned her, looking strangely reluctant to admit his actual occupation. She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Illya, I don’t care if you work in garbage disposal. It’s a stupid thing to lie about, but just tell me.”

“It’s worse than that.” He hesitated and leaned slightly away from her, eyes suddenly fixed on the wall behind her. “I work with the KGB.” Icy-cold understanding washed over her, and she felt the colour drain from her face.

“You’re a spy?” She asked incredulously, it had not been the confession she had been expecting. She had thought he was embarrassed about his career, not actively secretive about it. He nodded in response to the question.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before.” Illya said uncomfortably. “But I thought you needed to know before you made a decision.” A little voice niggled her from the back of her mind, reminding her that now would be a perfect time to confess to her own espionage background, but she did not say anything. Illya continued to look at her expectantly, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction. “Gaby, are you okay?”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m not, it’s not as though I have much choice in the matter.” She snapped. “My thoughts on your career don’t change the fact I am carrying your child.” The harsh admonishment made him drop his head in shame, and she felt a twinge of guilt when she remembered that she really was in no place to judge. “I’m sorry.” She said with a sigh, one of her hands moving up to her forehead to massage her temple. “I’m struggling to process everything at the moment.”

“I understand.” He sounded sincere and she only felt worse for her outburst. “I haven’t been very honest.”

“You couldn’t have known this would happen.” She said solemnly, dropping her hands so they rested on his shoulders. “There was no reason for you to tell the truth about that, not when you thought you wouldn’t ever see me again.” She had no intention of telling him about being recruited to MI6 for similar reasons, her own secret remained at the tip of her tongue but she found herself unable to utter it. The potential consequences of telling him the truth ran through her mind and silenced the confession, would he withdraw his offer? Give her up to the KGB? Much later she would realise that she was being ridiculous but at the moment she had felt her own fate too precarious to risk it on his goodwill.

“Do you still want to come with me?” He asked.

“Yes.” She said firmly.

Gaby wondered whether she was putting herself in a dangerous position but immediately dismissed the idea. She was only provisionally an MI6 agent, and she doubted Waverly even had her listed on any official paperwork. The only reason he would have to seek her out would be if there was any progress with her father’s situation but from what she could tell everything had been silent on that front for a very long time. There was some chance that her family connections could be found out, an agent would not have to search long for the daughter of Udo Teller to find out she had been taken in by another family and her last name changed to Schmidt. But even then there was little reason to suspect another agency had already turned her, and her Nazi relations alone were not enough to condemn her.

“I’m needed back by the end of the week.” Illya told her, clearly already thinking through the mechanics of relocating her. “I can organise the legal aspects while I’m over there, visas-”

“Marriage license.” She interrupted with a quirked eyebrow, a smile crossed his face and he stole a quick kiss.

“If that’s what you want.”

* * *

Within a month that was what happened, Gaby found herself in Russia with a small tell-tale bump, a new home, and yet another last name change that she hoped would be more permanent than the previous two. Illya had made most of the arrangements while in Russia, and at the end of it all Gaby had to do was to put her garage and flat on the market and pack her own things for the journey east.

They had already planned for Illya to travel over to escort her and help her settle in, but at the last minute he was called away and she had to make the journey herself. Travelling alone had been a nerve-wracking experience but the documentation Illya had procured for her was serious enough that no one asked any questions as she crossed the borders, and if anyone tried to bother her she simply had to flash it and they backed off immediately, a dozen apologies on their lips. After a few days she finally arrived at his flat in Russia, and let herself in with the key he had sent to her. It had been pretty much what she has expected- just as Spartan as his temporary home in East Berlin, only with a few more sentimental touches. She set about to making her own subtle changes, firmly making her mark on the place and establishing it as the home of a soon-to-be-married couple rather than that of a single man.

Illya returned late one evening when she was curled up near the fireplace, trying to decipher the Cyrillic of a book she had taken from one the shelves. He had no shortage of literature but annoyingly most of it was in Russian. She had discarded it as soon as the door opened and he stepped through, immediately launching herself at him.

“I missed you.” Gaby said with a breathless smile. She felt one of his hands go to rest on her abdomen while he leaned down to greet her with a kiss.

“I missed you too.” He stole a quick glance around the flat, a smile lifting up the corner of his lips. “I see you’ve redecorated.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No. It needed to be done.”

They married a few weeks later, it was a small ceremony with only the required witnesses present, both conscious that she would start to show soon. After that she settled into her new life relatively easily, the biggest issue mostly being the language barrier she still struggled with. Illya had been tutoring her on the language but it was a slow, ongoing process and she still became easily frustrated when she went out to try to get groceries and was unable to understand what the shopkeeper said to her.

Gradually she did adapt, her progression seeming to correlate with her size as the child inside her grew larger and more complex. Before their little accident, she had never really thought of pregnancy much, usually reserving her thoughts of it for some mythical future time. She had not thought it would be so uncomfortable, the nausea eventually subsided but in its absence came back pain and other such annoyances. Despite all the inconvenience she couldn’t help but grow fond of the little human she was hosting, even more so when she started to feel the tentative little gestures inside her womb once he or she started to move their limbs about.

Unfortunately, Illya was usually away for most of these wondrous moments of discovery. She soon came to learn that his mission in East Berlin had been a rarity- a long-term undercover assignment. What was more common was for him to leave their home for a week or two and return, sometimes looking untouched and others with fresh bruises or scars. She came to dread those weeks, usually fearful that one day he would not return at all, but to her gratitude he always did. Illya seemed to be aware that the absences were a strain on her and so he seemed to make a conscious effort to bring her things from over the wall for some small gesture of consolation. She did appreciate them- chocolate from Belgium, tea from England, a silk scarf from Italy. The gifts were usually the only hint he could give her about where he had spent his time, and while she liked them she would have much preferred his presence, and unfortunately they would not have much time to spend together before he was sent away again, his departure usually preceded by the arrival of a small but intimidating man at the house.

Before the first time, Illya had warned her about him- Oleg was his handler and had all the power in the world to end their reasonably comfortable existence should the whim strike him. She had felt the truth of his words when Oleg first arrived, he had spent a long time scrutinising her disdainfully before turning to Illya and spending the rest of his time ignoring her. Over time she gathered that Illya was of a considerably high rank, but she would not have guessed that from the way his handler treated him. Oleg was also the reason Gaby first learned about Illya’s anger management problems, one of the harsher lectures ending with Illya breaking the glass he was holding the moment the front door had shut behind the other man. The sudden act of violence had startled her dumb for several moments before she retrieved a first aid kit and tended to his cuts. He had quietly thanked her and the serious, apologetic look he sent her revealed how ashamed he was about losing his temper.

It was a few days before Illya told her the rest, about his family history and the resulting violent rages. He had confessed the whole thing with the air of a detached observer rather than someone who experienced such psychiatric problems. With the story told, he had quickly reassured her that he would never turn his anger towards her or their child, something that until that point she had not actually considered as a possibility. After allowing some time for the information to sink in, she had comforted him as best as she could and promised him that it didn’t change her opinion. The latter was a lie, she did trust him and she knew that he had never hurt her nor would he ever want to, but she couldn’t help but be slightly concerned.

Over time her worry decreased as he continued to prove that he did have some control over his temper, they argued often but he never at any point turned violent even when she was being particularly unreasonable. Their fights did not usually last long, often they were caused by something stupidly trivial and they were always resolved by the end of the day- usually with lots of kisses and apologies. The frequency with which they occurred increased as they moved closer and closer to her due date, and if anything Illya became less responsive to her intentional antagonism, clearly understanding that her mood swings had little to do with him. He even reacted with remarkable calm when she was spewing venomous, expletive-laden insults at him between agonising labour contractions, all immediately forgiven when the midwife placed the object of her efforts into her waiting and exhausted arms. There was something life changing in that moment, the culmination of all the past months struggles suddenly rendered meaningless by the joy that baby suddenly brought to them both.

Unfortunately, as Gaby had quickly become used to, the KGB were not feeling particularly inclined to letting Illya settle in with his new family member and within days of the birth he was sent away again, leaving Gaby alone to take care of a child that seemed determine to keep her up at all hours of the day and night. Luckily, Illya had some very kind neighbours, one of whom was a pleasant older woman who upon hearing the screams had turned up on her doorstep and shooed Gaby to her bed for a couple of hours while she took care of the child. When Illya did return, he did try to make up for his absence but she found that he was usually already exhausted from late nights or having to stay awake for days on end and did not have the energy to get up every few hours to rock the baby back to sleep.

The exemption to the general rule was the day he returned with a broken arm and they were given a solid three months together while he recovered from the injury. It was selfish of her, but she was strangely grateful for that time even though she would never wish him to be hurt. It was a heart-warming sight to come down the stairs in the morning to see him talking away in Russian to little Klaus, the harsh language seeming to have a strangely soothing effect on him. That three months had been blissful as it also afforded her much more a break with Illya now capable to taking on a much more active role in parenting, of course she loved Klaus but she had to admit he was exhausting to deal with. Gaby had never thought it would be so difficult. She did find herself falling into some old bad habits while Illya was home, and knowing that he couldn’t be there most of the time, Illya was surprisingly tolerant when she decided to have a bottle of vodka to herself and did not complain when he found himself taking care of two people in the aftermath. If anything he seemed slightly amused at having to transition from feeding Klaus to holding back her hair while she moaned about her life choices between retches.

Of course it couldn’t last, and as soon as Illya was fully recovered he was sent away again and the cycle of her waiting anxiously for his return only for him to depart again began anew. He often returned quite late at night, but as she slept lightly without him his arrival normally woke her up. One night, Gaby had been dozing sleepily when she heard the door of the bedroom quietly open and shut again after a short pause. She had long since memorised the sound and pace of the footsteps that approached the bed so she relaxed as she confirmed who her visitor was. The bed dipped as a heavy weight was set upon it, there was the sound of some shuffling from behind her where she was laying on her side. After a few minutes, the shuffling stopped and the she felt a warm body settle in beside her, one arm looping over to lie across her waist.

“Back in one piece?” She murmured, voice slightly muffled by the pillow her face was resting against.

“Alive and well.” He replied quietly, and she felt him press a light kiss to her neck. “Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning.”

“No.” She rolled over to look at Illya seriously. “Do you hear that?” The question caused his eyes to widen and he sat up suddenly, suspiciously glancing around as though it would reveal itself.

“Hear what?” The urgency in his voice was clear, and with a slow and lazy movement she too rose to a seated position and draped her arms around his shoulder.

“Nothing. Blissful silence.” She whispered into his ear, and when he turned in confusion towards her she gave him a wicked smile. “The night terror is asleep, we might not get another such perfect opportunity again.” He seized onto her meaning immediately, and she muffled a squeal with the back of her hand when his weight abruptly pushed her back on to the bed, sandwiching her between his body and the mattress. She grinned up at him as he leaned down for a kiss, entwining her fingers through his hair and deliberately mussing it out of its normal, perfectly-combed order. Her nightdress was haphazardly thrown to the side and was swiftly joined by the clothes he had not yet removed, and they both spent the night enjoying their reunion.

The next morning, Gaby had woken with the sunrise to find her husband looking at the ceiling with an expression of deep concentration.

“Finding some answers up there?” She asked from her comfortable position on his chest.

“No, unfortunately. The answers I need will have to come from you.” He intoned cryptically.

“Oh? I get to make a decision?” She teased, shifting around so she could face him properly. She crossed her arms and leaned her chin on them so she could stare up at him.

“Well you get to inform me of your opinion on the decision.” He amended with an apologetic look that she waved off.

“What’s the decision?”

“I’m being reassigned.” At that she raised her head with a mixture of interest and dread.

“Where to?” The tremor in her voice was apparent, and already she could think of a dozen places where the KGB might send him that would not be a pleasant stay.

“No need to panic.” He reassured her and pulled her in for a quick kiss. “I’m sure you’ll like it, the position is in London with an international agency. It is going to be long-term, so I get to bring my family with me.”

“We’re moving to London?” She asked in stupefied disbelief.

“We are.” He confirmed.

“How on earth did that happen?” Gaby demanded, utterly baffled as to how such a thing had come about.

“The Americans were also involved in my most recent mission, I brought you back some Turkish Delights on that subject.” He added, intentionally giving her an idea of where he had been as well as providing her with something to appeal to her insatiable sweet tooth. “The CIA agent they sent and I worked well together, and so they’ve decided to set up a team using agents from different organisations.”

“You worked with a CIA agent?” She asked sceptically, her eyebrow raised so high that it disappeared into her fringe.

“Yes.” He sounded defensive.

“That doesn’t sound like you.” She mocked gently. “Did you try and kill him?” The silence and guilty look in response to her question made her giggle.

“That doesn’t matter.” He said eventually, only making her burst into fresh peals of laughter. “We’ve moved past our differences.” She sobered slightly, although her face still danced with mirth.

“I guess I should start packing.”


	2. Chapter 2

The second move was much more to Gaby’s liking than the first. For one, the agency Illya was now working with seemed to have a better idea of what a struggle it would be for a one person to try to organise the move while looking after a child and they had given Illya enough leave for them to organise everything together and put it into action. She didn’t even want to think of how difficult it would have been for her to travel alone with Klaus, and found herself already with a very favourable opinion of Illya’s new employers.

The flat they had been provided with in London had clearly been chosen to accommodate for a small family, and while Illya dealt with their boxes of belongings she had wandered around, holding Klaus to her hip as she explored their new home. There was a room that had clearly been designated the nursery and was already furnished with all the essentials that would have been too inconvenient to bring over from Russia. Upon entering that room her initial elation at the comfortable surroundings immediately turned sour as suspicion descended over her. This all seemed a little too generous and she couldn’t help but worry that there was some ulterior motive at play. The KGB appeared to have given their blessing to this new international group, but what if this was all some sort of cover to try to wheedle a defection? Present them with enough shiny baubles to convince them to put themselves into danger just for some greater comforts. With her paranoia stoked, another uncomfortable thought came to her mind. They were in London now, Waverly’s playing ground. What if he got wind of her being around? Or worse what if he already knew? It was very convenient that of all the KGB agents it was her husband that ended up relocating to England. She felt stupid that the thought had not entered her head earlier, but when Illya had first told her the news she had been too distracted by the thought of having to pack all her things and cross several countries again to really consider the implications.

Illya distracted her from her thoughts by dropping a box by her side and suggesting she set up the playpen so Klaus could play while they continued to unpack. She let the innocuous tasks occupy her mind and once they were both finished and she and Illya tiredly settled down on the couch, she found her gaze travelling over to her son. He gurgled happily as he played with some wooden blocks, and she felt a sudden rush of protectiveness come over her. Regardless of what happened, she and Illya would always make sure to put him first and there was no bribe anyone could offer them that would change that. She dropped her head onto Illya’s shoulder and felt one of his arms slip around her, allowing her to move deeper into his embrace.

“I have to go into work tomorrow.” He told her, and she nodded acceptingly.

“Do you have any idea how long we will be staying?” She asked tentatively in Russian, the strange sounds coming from her mouth hesitantly. The struggle was worth it for the wide smile he sent in her direction.

“No idea.” He replied in kind. “Could be months, maybe years. The intention seems to be long term, but it will probably end as soon as relations between the US and USSR collapse.” For one insane moment she almost hoped for it, her worries only making her want to go back to somewhere which while dangerous and unpredictable was at least more honest in its intentions. “Would you be upset to leave?” Illya asked, a slight lilt to his voice that hinted at an unsaid worry. He had never been totally confident in their relationship, not even when she’d said ‘I do’ in badly accented Russian or handed over Klaus with proud happy eyes. To look at him you would never think that he would have such bad self-esteem but she had learned that he harboured a constant fear that eventually the uncertain life he provided for her would not be enough and she would wise up and move on, potentially taking Klaus with her.

“No.” Gaby said honestly, and tilted her head so she could look him in the eye. “I don’t care where we are as long as you and Klaus are with me.” He leaned his forehead down so it touched her, and she closed her eyes to savour this quiet intimate moment.

* * *

Living in the West was not what Gaby had thought it would be, as she learned over the first few weeks. Her expectations had always been high, and it was only now that she faced reality that she realised she had placed it on a pedestal that the real thing could never hope to reach. It was not some perfect ideal world, yes perhaps it did have some advantages over the USSR in that she could listen to whatever music she pleased and she had access to some more controversial literature. But strangely she found that there were many things she missed- the vodka wasn’t as good for one. That particular problem was very quickly rectified by Illya and before she even had a chance to complain a case of bottles with familiar Cyrillic lettering appeared in the cupboard she had reserved for such items. She also found their sudden anonymity quite jarring. Without realising it, she had become quite used to being treated with a certain level of respect while she had travelled around their neighbourhood. Illya’s success and position within the KGB earned him a certain degree of admiration and fear, and her association to him meant that some of that was conferred over to her. It was only now that she lived in a flat complex where no one really spoke to one another that she realised how different the experience had been. It had been nice to be regarded so highly and she found that she strangely missed the experience, even though she knew in the back of her mind that it was not necessarily motivated by positive intentions. Illya barely seemed to care about the change, and it reminded her that he was all too used to being shunned and disliked due to his father’s actions and that he likely preferred anonymity over either alternative.

As Gaby adjusted to the new environment, she was also surprised to see that Illya’s first few weeks at his new headquarters were surprisingly uneventful. She had expected him to disappear shortly after they had settled in, but he hadn’t and according to him it was due to extra training sessions and assessments by the new organisation. She guessed it was due to them wanting to make sure they understood their agent’s capabilities, but she couldn’t be certain as Illya didn’t elaborate any further on the subject and she never really pushed him to talk about his job more than he would naturally reveal. She knew he didn’t do it intentionally to keep her out of the loop, he had always had the attitude that the less she knew about what he did the less trouble she would be in if anything went wrong for him.

After the first few weeks, Illya did eventually start being sent away again but Gaby found his absences were no longer quite so distressing now she had more to distract herself with. Her father and later her foster father had taught her English, believing it a very important language to learn, and this meant she did not face the same difficulties as she had done in Russia. Similarly, she found that once she acquired some new clothes she tended to fit in a lot better, her slight accent far less noticeable than when she butchered Russian. She did find herself becoming wary whenever anyone enquired as to her son’s name while she was out for the day. ‘Klaus’ was very obviously not English, and it garnered a few negative reactions as people connected the dots. The cooing quickly stopped and was replaced by withdrawal and disdainful looks in her direction, some more rude than others. It had been very different in Russia, she had always clearly been seen as a foreigner but no one had dared to show her any disrespect.

Two months into living in London, Gaby was idly peeling carrots in the kitchen while Klaus entertained himself in his high chair. She sometimes regretted the decision she had made shortly after delivering him, she and Illya had talked it through and she had eventually come to the conclusion that it would be best for her to stay at home and look after Klaus until he was old enough to go to school. Childcare was too difficult and expensive to come by, and she even found herself surprisingly reluctant to let a stranger look after her baby. It had been the compromise they had reached, and when Illya was home she would sometimes spend the day away at a garage, refreshing her skills for the time when she would be able to work again. It was a refreshing change from dealing with nappies and tantrums. She was distracted from her thoughts by the sound of the doorbell, the noise also getting Klaus’s attention. Quickly washing her hands, Gaby headed over to the door, feeling a surge of curiosity as to the identity of their visitor. She knew it couldn’t be Illya, he would not bother ringing the bell and would just walk straight in, give her a kiss and pick up Klaus.

The face that greeted her at the door was a handsome but unfamiliar one, and he seemed equally baffled to see her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I think I have the wrong flat.” He said immediately, his accent giving away the fact he was American. “But what a pleasant mistake that turned out to be!” The charm was turned on smoothly, and had Gaby not been so wary she might not have noticed the very quick way his gaze scanned over her features and body, quickly assessing her age and attractiveness.

“Who are you looking for?” She asked in English, pointedly ignoring his comment.

“I _was_ looking for my colleague, but I _could_ be looking for you instead.” He said, a charming grin lighting up on his face as one of his hands went to lean on the doorframe. She felt her initial annoyance harden into dislike as she knew that in his perusal he had not failed to notice the wedding ring on her finger.

“How convenient.” She said blandly. “I’ve been looking for a babysitter so my husband and I can go out for the evening. My baby is sick at the moment, I hope you don’t mind getting that nice suit of yours covered in half-digested milk.” She nearly laughed at how quickly he seemed to recoil, his hand dropping from the door in his haste to step away. He might have been willing to seduce a married woman, but lifelong bachelors always seemed less comfortable with the idea of a squawking child.

“Ah, children are not my speciality.” He said uncomfortable. “You wouldn’t happen to know if one of your neighbours is a large and perpetually grumpy Russian?” The questions caused one of Gaby’s eyebrows to rise and she opened the door wider, stepping out of the way to allow him passage into the flat.

“Perhaps you should come in.” He looked shock at this abrupt change in attitude and a look of confusion crossed his face. She nearly sighed at his utter obliviousness. “Illya’s not home yet.” She told him, and saw that even with this extra information he was still visibly struggling to connect the dots. “We’ve not met,” she outstretched a hand for him to shake, “I’m Gaby Kuryakin, Illya’s wife.” Her hand continued to hover in the air for some time as Gaby found herself greatly amused by his look of utter stupefied surprise, and concluded that her husband had probably not disclosed his marital status to his partner.

“Peril’s married?!” The American blurted out, still not making any move towards going into the flat.

“Yes.” She said slowly, as though speaking to someone very dim. “He’s getting some groceries, he will be home soon if you want to speak to him.” She made another gesture for him to come in, and mutely he stepped through the door, allowing her to shut it behind him. “You must be the annoying American he works with.” She commented mildly as she headed back into the kitchen, the sound of footsteps behind her confirming that he was following her. Gaby had heard a great many things about the man that was now in her flat, mostly uncomplimentary. From what she could understand, their relationship had an oddly brotherly vibe in that they both seemed to dislike each other while at the same time not be willing to allow the other to come to harm.

“Annoying?” He asked incredulously. “He has no room to talk, he is a giant stick in the mud!” She immediately shot him a look that informed him she would not listen to any more disparaging compliments, and he seemed to understand, shooting her a sheepish smile even as his eyes turned towards the other human in the room. Klaus had put down his toy when the stranger had entered, and now looked at the man with open curiosity. “Peril really is full of surprises, he didn’t tell me he had a clone.” Gaby felt her lips twist upwards at the joke.

“Illya doesn’t really talk about personal matters often.” She said. She was not surprised Illya had said nothing about his family to his partner, aside from being a deeply private person he also worked hard at keeping her separate from his job, not wanting her to get involved and be put into any danger.

“I’ve noticed.” He commented. “I’m Napoleon.” Gaby had picked up her knife to continue her task of chopping vegetables, but at that she set it down to give him a hard look. “I’m not lying!” He insisted. “My mother was obsessed with French history.” She shook her head in bafflement, and continued working as her guest settled down onto one of the dining room chairs. “How long have you been married?”

“Nearly a year and a half.” She said after some thought, using Klaus’s birthday as a marker and thinking back. They hadn’t really celebrated their anniversary, unfortunately Illya had been stuck in a hospital in Poland at the time and she had been too anxious and waiting for rare updates as to his condition to really think about it. It was only afterwards they had realised that their anniversary had been and gone without either of them really acknowledging it. Illya was more upset about it than her, and despite her insistence that it was fine he had made it up to her with a special dinner while Klaus was taken care of by the same neighbour who had been so helpful to her before.

Turning her attention back to Napoleon, she saw him glance between her and Klaus, clearly attempting the arithmetic and she saw a wide grin cross his face once he worked out that Klaus’s conception likely took place sometime before her wedding day from what he could guess. She could almost see him try to figure out a delicate way he could ask the question he was clearly dying for an answer for, but before he could say anything they both turned their heads as the sound of a door opening and closing echoed clearly through the momentary silence.

Illya walked in with the large brown bag, and paused in the doorway as he took in the scene before him of his wife and partner in the same room.

“Cowboy.” He greeted cordially, and kissed Gaby on the cheek as he deposited the bag on the counter beside her. “What are you doing here?”

“Well I wanted to talk to you about Singapore, but I’ve found a much more interesting subject now.” Napoleon grinned wickedly. “I see you’ve been hiding some secrets away, Peril. Scared I might steal her away?” Illya snorted derisively from beside her, and gave her a smile when she rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him.

“Hardly. Gaby isn’t an idiot.” Napoleon made a noise of protest at that, and the two men bickered for some time like children over whether or not Napoleon could have eventually won her over. Gaby ignored them both as she realised the conversation was not actually serious, and busied herself with the preparation of the meal now that she had everything she needed. Without Illya needing to ask, she increased the quantities and set the pot on the stove to cook.

“I’ll give Klaus his bath.” Gaby said, providing the two men with an easy opportunity to have their private discussion without having to ask her to leave. Gratitude shone from Illya’s eyes, and she made a mental note to collect on that later when they were alone.

Klaus enjoyed his baths and she indulged him in it for longer than normal, hoping that by the time she went back down the two men would be done with their business. Once he was clean and dressed in his bed clothes, Gaby carried Klaus back into the kitchen and placed him into his playpen, noticing that Napoleon was now relating a story about a play he had been to see, their discussion on Singapore clearly having been concluded before she returned.

Napoleon took over the conversation as they ate, and Gaby found her previous dislike of him start to fade away. He still flirted outrageously with her, but she could see now that it was more out of an attempt to rile up Illya than of genuine interest. Underneath the table, she caught Illya’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, giving him some reassurance that Napoleon’s empty compliments were not having any effect.

It was dark when Napoleon left, Gaby and Illya both escorted him to the door and waved him off, Gaby leaning into Illya’s side as they closed the door.

“He seemed nice.” She murmured, slipping her arms around him now that they were alone again.

“Cowboy is annoying.”

“You like him, admit it.” Her suspicions from what he had told her had been confirmed over the night, had anyone else dared flirt with her so blatantly she was sure Illya would have decked them. The fact that Napoleon had left without a scratch spoke volumes about her husband’s respect for him.

“Maybe.” He allowed, and he tilted her head up so he could lean down a press a long, lingering kiss on her lips. He made to pull away but she caught the lapels of his jacket and held him in place, her mouth moving against his in increasingly urgent movements. His hands, which had gone to rest on her waist, untucked her shirt from her skirt so he could touch the skin underneath, fingers tightening around her and pulling her close.

A sudden noise of protest behind them interrupted the moment, and they reluctantly parted, shooting a fond look over at their discontent child. Illya moved away, the place where his hands had been still warm from the heat of his touch. He picked up Klaus and bounced him lightly.

“Maybe you’ll be a good boy and go to sleep quickly tonight so your mother and I can spend some time together.”

Gaby let out a laugh, and followed them into the nursery. To their surprise, Klaus had only needed to be rocked for a few minutes before his eyes had shut and his breathing evened out. Very slowly and quietly, Illya edged over towards the cot and carefully put him down, doing his best to not wake him up.

Already unbuttoning her blouse, Gaby backed out of the room under lllya’s intense stare, her own smile reflecting his even as he followed her and pressed her up against the wall of the corridor. One of his hands cupped her cheek before he leaned in and caught her lips, and she returned the kiss just as passionately, somehow managing to wrest back enough concentration to push off his jacket and start attacking his shirt. Her blouse fell to the floor and shortly afterwards she felt a pair of hands on her hips lift her up so she didn’t have to tilt so far up to kiss him. With her feet dangling in the air, she hooked them around his waist and looped her arms around his neck to further support herself as the kisses grew even more heated. She was only faintly aware of her back leaving the wall as Illya started walking them both towards their bedroom.

* * *

More time passed, and Napoleon started making more frequent visits towards the flat. Illya complained, but she doubted that he meant it and she did appreciate having someone she could share a bottle of wine with since Illya rarely drank. As she spent more in London with very few incidents, she found herself relaxing into the city a little, her previous worries that she might encounter Waverly diminishing by the day.

Queueing to buy groceries, Gaby shifted uncomfortably on her sore feet- juggling a squirming Klaus in one arm and a basket of items in the other. Klaus had recently taken his first wobbly steps and now seemed to object to being held for any period of time longer than a few minutes, unfortunately he still wasn’t very good at walking and with a multitude of sharp edges around she was not content to let him explore and risk hurting himself. Reaching the front she managed to relieve herself of the basket but then had to try to wrest her handbag from her son’s strong grip so she could get her purse out which was currently full of Illya’s most recent pay check. The shopkeeper looked on impatiently as she rummaged around, and she shot him an apologetic look as she tried to hurry up.

“Allow me.” A chillingly familiar voice said from beside her and in her peripheral vision she saw an arm suddenly extend and offer the shopkeeper a handful of notes. Removing her hand from her bag, she allowed it to join her other clasped around her son’s back and she turned towards the man. “Hello Gaby,” Waverly greeted, “long time, no see.”

“Waverly.” She said levelly, shifting Klaus around so he was further away from him. His eyes followed her movements but he said nothing of it.

“There’s a café around the corner, you should join me.” He said simply, and after collecting his change he walked out without a backward glance, confident that she would follow him without question.

For a moment Gaby hesitated, and then she retrieved her groceries and sped her pace so she caught up with him. They sat down in a secluded and quiet corner of the café, and after a hard look from Waverly one of the baristas hastily brought over a high-chair for the child in their company. Once their coffees were brought over, and they were left alone again, Waverly leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and although the way he looked at her suggested nothing other than pleasantness, there was a hard edge to it that made her grip on the high-chair tighten.

“I have to admit, Gaby, I was rather distressed to find out you had not felt the need to inform me of your sudden decision to relocate.” His tone was deceptively calm, and his implication that she owed him such notification struck at her stubborn streak.

“My apologies, I had a lot on mind.” She said it without a single trace of regret.

“Yes I can imagine.” He deliberately allowed his gaze to fall on Klaus, who was busily playing with a biscuit the barista had put on the tray in front of him. “Your choice of husband came as quite a surprise too. I don’t think I could have thought of someone less likely for you to marry.”

“I don’t see why.” She retorted. “You barely know anything about me. A day convincing me to help you in the future does not equal a sudden in depth understanding of a person.”

“Perhaps.” Waverly agreed. “Kuryakin is an excellent spy, I don’t think I’ve had many better under my command. I imagine you must be very proud of him.” At her shocked expression, he tilted his head slightly to the side. “Did he not tell you? He works for me at the moment, for my international group. I did want the KGB’s best on my team, and it was very convenient that in acquiring him I also managed to retrieve you.” Gaby felt a cold shiver run down her spine at the implication, with very little effort Waverly could topple the domino to set in motion the complete breakdown of the mutual respect and trust she and Illya had built over the years.

“What is it you want?” She said, hating the tremor her voice took on.

“Your father has been spotted in Italy. We believe that the Vinciguerras, a couple with Nazi sympathies, have captured him in order to force him to force him to build them a bomb with his new enrichment techniques.” He paused to allow the information to sink in. “This is a matter I require your help with-”

“No.” Gaby interrupted swiftly, already having heard enough and not wanting him to try to convince her with any details. “My agreement to assist MI6 ended the moment I discovered I was pregnant. Before I had nothing to lose, and now I do. I have a husband and a child, and I won’t betray either of them for a promise I made before I had either of them. Do what you want, send us back to the USSR- I don’t care. Just stay out of our lives.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that Gaby.” And for a moment, Waverly almost looked sorry. “This is bigger than you and your family. If your father finishes his research and passes on his knowledge, this could start world war three, and if you think that it won’t affect you, Illya or your child then you are a fool.” He stood up from the table even as she struggled to try to come up with an answer, her eyes desperately following him as though somehow she could convince him he was wrong. “I’m sorry, Gaby.” Waverly said, sincerity creeping through the authoritative way he spoke. “I have as little choice in this matter as you. We’re in a time critical situation, and you have until tomorrow to tell Illya the truth, or I will. Whatever happens, you will be going to Italy and you will be meeting your uncle. The sooner you reconcile yourself to that fact the better.”

Without another word or anymore utter of protest from Gaby, he departed leaving her staring open-mouthed at his back, fighting back tears of horror as she realised she was backed into a corner and out of options. The secret she should have told Illya so long ago, an old skeleton that had been hidden away for so long, and now because of her mistake it would be revealed in the worst possible way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter was also taken from the drabble series. All future chapters from this point are newly posted.


	3. Chapter 3

Back home, Gaby spent the first five minutes pacing back and forth as she frantically tried to think of some way she could break the news to Illya without making it sound so terrible. Unfortunately, there were only so many ways you could phrase “I technically became an MI6 agent before we met, oh and by the way my dad wasn’t a car mechanic, he was actually a Nazi.” and none of them sounded particularly positive.

She wasn’t given much time to consider it further as Klaus seemed to sense her distress and started to cry, clearly confused as to why his mother was so upset. She hated it when he cried like that, and she spent the next half an hour rocking him and trying to calm him down, but the more time she spent doing that the more worked up she became as the clock hands seemed to speed towards Illya’s return home. When the door finally opened, Klaus was still screaming and Gaby was frustrated to the point of tears. Illya paused in the doorway as the noise assaulted him, before swiftly moving into action and plucking the child from her grip.

Klaus seemed to calm immediately once in his father’s arms and Gaby stared at him blankly, not even trying to hold back the tears anymore. As if it wasn’t bad enough that her life was falling apart, she couldn’t even soothe her child properly. With Klaus dealt with, she felt Illya embrace her gently and she burrowed her face into his chest, relishing the hug and knowing that such instances may not occur again once she had told him the truth.

“I’m sorry.” She hiccupped. “I couldn’t get him to settle.”

“No wonder, you’re very tense.” Illya noted aloud and pulled away slightly to tilt her head up so he could look at her properly. “He can sense when you’re upset and he will never calm down while he knows that. What’s the matter?”

“Not now.” She said and huddled closer, enjoying the feel of his arms moving so he could envelop her properly as she laid her head against his chest. “After dinner, we need to talk.” She regretted her choice of words immediately as she felt him stiffen. “It’s not what you think.” She said quickly raising her head so she could look him in the eye as she tried to reassure him.

“Is it about us?” He asked cautiously, and she could almost see the tumultuous emotions he was trying to hide behind a carefully blank expression.

“No.” Gaby said immediately, and she felt her face soften slightly with a small smile. “I love you to distraction, you know that.” Her admission, one she made all too rarely she was forced to admit, did seem to remove some of the tension from his shoulders. But even as she watched a tentative smile appear on his face she felt her gaze drop to his chest so she didn’t have to look straight at him. “It’s something else.” She said quietly. “Something I should have told you a long time ago, and I only hope you will be able to forgive me.”

Illya did not reply for some time and she knew that he had grasped the seriousness of the situation. She had spoken as though the upcoming revelation would put a wedge between them because she was sure it would, and she knew that he likely suspected that whatever had rattled her so much was likely to be very serious. His light grip on her arms tightened slightly, but not to the point of being painful and Gaby was well aware of her own fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder. Had his shirt not been in the way she was sure that she would have left fingernail marks.

“Help me with dinner.” She said, not bothering to phrase it like a question. In less than an hour he might no longer want to be anywhere near her, and she didn’t want to waste the time they had left. He nodded and leaned down to press a lingering kiss into her hair before they reluctantly parted from each other.

Gaby felt the tension inside her build as they prepared the meal and ate it, she chewed listlessly on her food, its pleasant taste turning to ash in her mouth. With dinner finished, she knew her time had run out and she found her bravery dissipating as she murmured that they should put Klaus to bed first. It was left unsaid that she wanted their baby out of the room before the argument could erupt, hopefully the walls would be thick enough to shield him from the noise.

With Klaus sleeping blissfully unaware of what was going to happen between his parents, their final delay tactic was dealt with and they both knew they would have to face Gaby’s revelation. She had snuck a quick shot of vodka while Illya’s back was turned, hoping it would lend her the strength to speak and with her and Illya seated on the couch she managed to blurt out a seemingly random statement at his enquiring look.

“I met your boss today.” She said, and by his stunned reaction she knew it hadn’t been the revelation she had been expecting. Perhaps he had thought she was going to admit to an old infidelity before their marriage or some offence that he would find personally offensive.

“Waverly?” He asked, his face scrunched up with a frown. “How could you have met him?”

“He sought me out.” She said, avoiding his gaze.

“But why would he-”

“It’s not the first time we’ve met.” Gaby blurted out, and she watched his expressive face shift through the various predictable stages of shock, misunderstanding and finally betrayal.

“You’ve been meeting him?” His voice was deathly quiet, not quite the explosive anger she had been expecting and preparing for.

“It’s not like that.” She pleaded. “The last time I met him was years ago, before I even knew you.” She tried to imbue as much sincerity into her voice as possible, but her attempt to explain herself did not appear to reassure him.

“And he asked you to spy on me?” The volume was fractionally louder than the last time he had spoken, and if anything he seemed to be building up into a rage. The colour drained from her face as she realised how easily he could have come to that conclusion, she had been the one to chase him and initiate a relationship and with his background he could easily mistake her attentions and their relationship as a honey-trap.

“No, of course not!” She told him insistently. “It had nothing to do with you, the fact we met was a complete coincidence. I had no idea you were KGB, and I certainly wasn’t asked to enter in a relationship with you.”

“Then why do you know him?”

“It was because of my father. He-” she found her voice breaking off as she knew she would be revealing another lie, “he wasn’t the mechanic I told you about. That man, Albert Schmidt that I told you about, was my foster father. My real father, he-” she hesitated again, “he worked for the Nazis.” She finished quietly. Illya said nothing, and she could not bear to look up at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my father. I was ashamed.”

Finally glancing up, she could see Illya looking at her with narrowed eyes clearly expecting something further. “My real father was a weapon’s developer.” She admitted further. “He worked on nuclear bombs, and Waverly knew that eventually the Nazis would want to find him again and would likely try to use me to get to him.” She took in a deep breath, and blinked back some tears before she made her final confession. “He recruited me for MI6, my role was to inform him if and when someone approached me about my father.”

“And you never thought this would be important to mention?” He stated coldly.

“I’m sorry.” Gaby replied, her eyes still downcast. “I couldn’t think of the right time, and I never thought it would come up again. I thought I could just forget about it.”

“I told you I was KGB that night in my flat.” Illya reminded her, his voice taking on a dangerous lilt. “That would have been a good time to tell me.”

“I know.” She admitted. “I wanted to but I panicked. I was scared you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.” The bitter huff of a laugh suggested he didn’t believe her, but before she could rebuff it he shifted suddenly and she found herself flinching away from him. Her eyes had shut in anticipation and when nothing happened she opened them again to see that Illya had recoiled away in horror. The move she had been so scared of appeared to have been nothing more than him running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“After all this time,” he said hollowly, “you still think I would ever hurt you?”

“No of course not!” She insisted, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. In that split second when his hand had shifted so suddenly she had thought he was going to hit her, and something instinctual in her had reacted to that. She could see the hurt on his face, and with everything she had already done to betray him she wanted nothing more to wipe that look off his face.

“I think we’ve had enough lies.” Illya said coldly, and without another word he left the room leaving her on the couch by herself. Slightly disoriented, she stood up again, intent on figuring out what he was doing. She found him in their bedroom, a small bag on the bed and throwing items of clothing into it. Gaby watched him work numbly, one her hands wiping at the tears that were streaming down her face.

“Are you leaving?” Her voice trembled as she spoke but it did not appear to elicit any sympathy from her husband who continued to pack his bag.

“I need a few days. I need to come to terms with-” he made an undefined gesture, “all of this mess.” He sighed heavily and shook his head, zipping up the bag with a short movement.

“Are you leaving _me_?” She asked a little more confidently, making a concerted effort to meet his eyes. Eventually he did look at her, and his face remained impassive.

“No.” He said after a pause, one of his hands raised to his forehead so he could rub at his temple. “But you can’t accept me to just accept this bombshell easily.”

“No, of course not.” She fidgeted with the sleeve of her cardigan. “But you don’t have to leave.”

“Yes I do.” He told her firmly, hefting the bag up. “I need some time alone.”

His tone made it clear that he would not be moved on the subject, and she found herself nodding along even though she hated the thought of him leaving their home while they were on bad terms. They had always made an effort in the past never to separate or go to bed while they were still angry with each other and now they were breaking that unspoken rule. Illya approached her and for a moment she thought that he might touch her, a small tiny gesture to show that he still cared for her. But if anything he skirted around her seemingly determined not to allow even the slightest, briefest contact between the two of them. Maybe he still believed she was scared of him, and that thought her her more than she could have imagined. When he had first told her about the rages she had promised it didn’t bother her, and now he had discovered that was yet another lie she had told.

The sound of the door shutting behind him was very final, and Gaby felt herself drop to the ground as though her legs no longer had the willpower to hold them up. She pulled her knees up to her chest, and used her fist to muffle her sobs so she did not make enough noise to wake Klaus. She had managed to complete her part of the ultimatum, the only thing left now was to meet with Waverly in the morning and hope the night alone would allow Illya to calm down enough so they could complete this stupid mission and hopefully return to the way things were.

Even knowing that she should have told Illya a long time ago about MI6, Gaby couldn’t help but feel yet another sharp burst of resentment at her father. He had barely been in her life but he seemed intent on ruining it and she would add this sudden divide between her and Illya to his list of crimes against her.

* * *

Gaby did not sleep well that night, the bed seemed colder than usual in Illya’s absence. She had of course become used to sleeping by herself due to Illya’s many assignments but more so than ever she found herself staring at the ceiling and willing sleep to come. She had almost been relieved when Klaus had started crying in the middle of the night as it gave her the excuse to go comfort him and take him to her and Illya’s bed. But even with Klaus’s tiny form cuddled up against her, she still couldn’t drift on and when the sun broke over the horizon and sent its rays through the curtains, she gave up and made herself a large cup of coffee.

A few hours later, Waverly arrived and after a brief glance around the flat he remarked drily, “I take it Agent Kuryakin did not take the news well?”

“No.” Gaby agreed. “He stayed somewhere else for the night, Napoleon’s flat I would guess.” Waverly nodded at her suggestion, clearly thinking the same.

“Because of the inconvenience and your… unique situation, I’ve decided we should keep your status as an MI6 asset between ourselves and Kuryakin. It would be best if this news did not travel to the KGB or CIA.”

“Agreed.” She doubted Illya would have confided in Napoleon, nor would he tell the KGB because of the danger it would put them all in.

“I’ve organised the mission briefing for this morning, unfortunately we don’t have a lot of time.”

“I understand.” She paused as something occurred to her. “I can’t get a sitter at such short notice.”

“Bring him along then.” Waverly suggested, and waited patiently while she retrieved her handbag and the plethora of items that needed to be taken from the house every time Klaus was taken somewhere.

At the headquarters, Waverly left her alone in a conference room, and she busied herself with entertaining Klaus while feeling her own dread build at the thought of having to face Illya again after such a short amount of time. There was no way he was prepared to forgive her after only one night of stewing over the news. Indeed he didn’t look too pleased to see her when he walked in with Napoleon, but his chilly demeanour did soften when Klaus spotted him and called out for his father. Napoleon looked surprised to see her and she could guess that Illya had likely not told him about their falling out. Waverly followed them through the door.

“Right I see everyone is here now.” Waverly announced brightly. “And thank you Gaby for your assistance on this matter.” His latter sentence was clearly for Napoleon benefit, and she nodded silently even as the American shot her another confused look.

“A situation has arisen in Italy,” Waverly continued, “a weapon’s developer who had been living in the USA disappeared a few months ago and has since been spotted in the company of some known Nazi sympathisers in Rome. We believe it is likely that the Vinciguerras are planning on developing a nuclear bomb to pass onto their associates, as well as to utilise Udo Teller’s techniques for enriching uranium to manufacture more arms. The plan is to go to Rome, stop the handover from taking place and rescue Dr Teller and his research.” Waverly paused to allow all the information to sink in before he ploughed on with the details.

“Luckily for us,” he continued, “we have an easy way into the group. It appears that Udo Teller has not been cooperating with the Vinciguerras and as such they are keen on finding someone to convince him to complete his work. Quite by an amazing coincidence, our lovely guest for the day, Mrs Kuryakin, is Udo Teller’s daughter.” Gaby didn’t even have to look over at Napoleon to realise his reaction, she could hear him cough out his mouthful of coffee.

“That’s one amazing coincidence.” Napoleon stated, once he had recovered, and the look he shot over at the other three people in the room suggested he thought it was anything but.

“It is.” Illya agreed tightly, and the glare he sent in the direction of the American dared him to say anything further on the subject. Sensing this was delicate territory, for once Napoleon meekly sat back and stayed quietly to allow Waverly to finish speaking.

“It has come to our attention that Mrs Kuryakin has been followed for the last week or so,” at this Waverly sent her a brief apologetic look, “and we believe the culprit works for the Vinciguerras. We think it likely that they have plans to approach her soon to help coerce Udo Teller’s cooperation.”

“They’ve been following me?” Gaby demanded furiously. “That would have been nice to know earlier.”

“I was trying to establish exactly _who_ was following you first.” Waverly explained. “Anyway, your uncle has been spotted at Rome airport, and we think he is planning on arranging a meeting with you. We think the best course of action is to send you, Solo, to Rome to begin recon work. Kuryakin, you and your wife will stay here and wait for the approach. Illya we think it is likely they have done some minor investigation of yourself and have likely discovered your cover story of being an architect, you will likely have to maintain this for the duration of the mission.” Both men nodded in agreement to their roles. “Mrs Kuryakin, I suggest you stick to your normal routine until your uncle approaches you. Once he does, we anticipate he will offer to take you to Rome to see your father. You will agree and if he does not offer you will convince him to allow Agent Kuryakin to accompany you.”

With their roles laid out, Waverly proceeded to drone through the details. Gaby found her attention wavering once she realised none of this information was intended for her, her role in this farce was to get the two more experienced agents access to her father. Her initial feeling upon this realisation was annoyance, she felt like she was being treated as an unwanted but unfortunately necessary prop.

“How long do you expect this to take?” She asked tiredly once Waverly was finished speaking and the two men had stopped asking for minor clarifications.

“Perhaps a week, maybe less. The Vinciguerras appear to be in a rush, we suspect they have already arranged a date and time for the handover of the bomb.” Waverly answered.

“We’ll have to arrange for someone to look after Klaus.” Gaby said absently, wracking her brains trying to think of someone that would be willing to look after a small child for that amount of time.

“I’m afraid that might not be necessary.” Waverly replied, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. His declarations caused both Gaby and Illya’s heads to immediately snap into his direction, mutual concern over their child giving them an eerie synchrony.

“What does that mean?” Illya asked sharply.

“As I said, Gaby has been followed for the past week.” Waverly explained. “They are already aware that you have a child and would expect Gaby to bring her son so that he could meet his grandfather. Leaving young Klaus behind would suggest a concern over his safety and thus strengthen any suspicions the Vinciguerras have.” He was right, Gaby realised with a sickening feeling to her stomach. Had she truly sought reconciliation with her father she would have taken Klaus with her, and if they left him behind they stood to put themselves in even greater danger. Under less severe circumstances Gaby would have been happy to take the increased risk of death or injury to herself and Illya if it guaranteed Klaus’s safety, however the threat of nuclear war if they failed meant that leaving Klaus would not necessarily make him any safer.

Seeming to sense the tension in the room, Napoleon made up some ridiculous excuse and promptly dragged Waverly from the room to leave the married couple alone. Looking over at Illya, Gaby could see that he was equally conflicted over the choice as she was. Crossing the room, she lightly deposited Klaus onto his lap and took Napoleon’s vacated seat. Klaus reached up to curl his arms around his father’s neck as Illya hugged him close. Over his son’s shoulder he looked over at her without any of the anger of the previous night.

“Waverly’s right.” Gaby said quietly.

“I know.” Illya sighed. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote part of this with the Gaby/Illya fight scene in mind. I think that’s an important scene because Gaby gives Illya every reason to go berserk and attack her but he never does and I think that’s important since for her it establishes that yes Illya has rages but he won’t turn his anger on her. This hasn’t happened in this story, which is why Gaby is more wary of Illya.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally part of my drabble series, but it was starting to get too long so I thought I would make it a separate story. I might change the title at some point since I used a one word prompt to come up with the story.


End file.
